In the Heart of a Dragon
by Winter's End
Summary: A Draco and Hermione fic. Read it, and review.
1. Loko-motive

In the Heart of a Dragon  
  
Chapter 1: Loco - motive  
  
By: Winter's End  
  
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are owned and copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. This story is only for the sake of pure entertainment.  
  
Summary: Draco looks different. Don't ask me how. Go figure. ^_^X  
  
Draco tried very hard to hide his growing discomfort as he passed by a group of giggling Hufflepuff girls. In doing so, he heard an almost inaudible whisper pass between them behind his back; he turned on his heels in a fit and glared. He realized too late that it was probably the worst mistake he'd made all day, finally deciding that looks could kill as one girl in the group decided to fall to the floor in a dead faint. In both anger and surprise, he whirled around with a menacing hiss, planning only to relieve himself of this nightmare with a cold splash of water on his face.  
  
Since the beginning of the day, he'd been having nothing but a series of bad luck. It all began with Crabbe and Goyle's failure to recognize him --- him! Their undoubted superior! And since then the same bad luck had followed him throughout the train. Everyone who had seen him that morning had either gaped up at him openly or giggled themselves silly that even he who had only been watching them found it very challenging to even bear the pain in his own side! And just now, a girl had actually fainted! What did they think he looked like! Homer Simpson! He almost choked at his bad choice of comparison. He certainly didn't look that bad --- did he?  
  
So what in the abyss was wrong with everybody!  
  
In a lethal fit of fury, he glowered at the next person he saw, stopping him before he could gawk.  
  
Unutterably mortified at the nerve-crushing sight of Malfoy's metal-piercing stare, Neville Longbottom --- who had the most unfortunate timing of crossing his path at that very moment --- cowered himself into a corner, trembling violently, hoping in vain to be the corner.  
  
Draco left him there with a grunt, focusing his attention in reaching the seclusion of the lavatory which was now only a few meters at hand...  
  
Someone bumped him.  
  
His anger exploded. Draco flared, willing himself to pounce on whomever it was that had brought that incessant disturbance to his thoughts, preparing himself to tear that intruder limb from limb.  
  
He heard the audible thudding of books falling to the floor beside his feet. When his vision finally cleared from the steaming blur of his anger, he saw who the intruder was. Indeterminable anger only made him narrow his eyes in a glare that even he himself couldn't have survived. He didn't speak, trying to regain his composure, deciding against his previous plan of pouncing on the intruder that had somehow turned out to be a girl. Such act would hardly be able to give his classmates a good impression of him in his last year of school if he should be found sprawled on top of this girl --- especially this Gryffindor girl.  
  
Hermione only stood there, infront of him, looking up into his face with open-mouthed amazement.  
  
Calming down, he raised his chin nonchalantly, ignoring her blank stare. In a gesture of princely regality, Draco brushed his robes with the back of his hand, straightening them in the same manner. Not wanting to loose control of himself once again and risk doing something really stupid, he only eyed her with pure hatred. `Next time, Granger,' he whispered threateningly, `watch where you're going.' And with that, he stepped aside, and walked passed her, barely even brushing their shoulders.  
  
Hermione, obviously stunned, forgot to retort and watched him go; Harry and Ron, who wore identical expressions, did the same.  
  
When Hermione finally spoke, it came out as a gasp. `Did you see ---?'  
  
`Yes,' they choked.  
  
`Do you think ---?'  
  
`Yes.'  
  
`Was it really ---?'  
  
`Yes.'  
  
`That was...'  
  
`Yes.'  
  
Overwhelmed, she breathed out, `What happened to Malfoy?'  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
The water was refreshing, trickling down his face in a flowing stream of enlightenment. Draco braced his hands against the sides of the sink; his head bowed low in silent reflection. He was calmed now, but apparently not calm enough to figure out the reason for the series of extreme reactions he had gotten by only traipsing along aimlessly. These events had finally changed his mind about fame, making him regret the day he had wished for it.  
  
It felt awkward... having people stare at you for no obvious reason, having your every single movement watched.  
  
*So...* he thought. *This was how it felt like to be in the shoes of the great Harry Potter...*  
  
`Honestly, Potter,' he said, talking to the Boy Who Lived as if he was really there. `You can keep your fame.' He grinned. `But the look on Granger's face was priceless!' He had never thought that the intolerable Headgirl of the century could actually be dumbstruck with naught but a mere inkling of what she was seeing. He frowned, suddenly. What was she seeing?  
  
Draco raised his head to examine himself in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, turning his face this way and that to have clearer view of himself. *Funny...* he thought. *I look the same. *  
  
Leaning closer towards the reflection, he concluded that he really hadn't changed... much.  
  
The myriad of freckles that had broken out all over his face that summer had completely disappeared, leaving only a clear and untainted stretch of alabaster skin. His features had refined over the years, allowing him to attain a set of delicate yet powerful jaws to go with his pair of tantalizing gray eyes, his cheekbones finely chiseled into perfection, lengthened platinum hair falling over the sides of his face adding to his natural allure. He was tall, and lanky. He didn't own the set of well-toned muscles the Weasley twins had acquired over the years of retaining their position as Beaters; but Draco did have a hard, though slightly, muscled body he had obtained during the heavy training he had undergone as the Slytherin Seeker.  
  
In short, he was absolutely striking, if not, handsome.  
  
But that particularly didn't give that Hufflepuff student the right to faint --- nor for the rest of his schoolmates to gawk at him in such open...  
  
No. He wasn't sure if it was admiration, or some peculiar kind of eye disease all of them had acquired during the summer; and even though he had much preferred the former over the latter, he still didn't risk jumping into unproven conclusions which had last time brought him to a state of abysmal embarrassment.  
  
He pushed himself up, his posture set in the mode of charming regality. Let them gawk for all he cared; he was going to ignore them --- he shrugged --- as much as he can...  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: *glare* It didn't turn out the way that I had wanted it... like all others that are of my make. And I can't promise you that the next chapter would be better. *glare* these things have a way of finding themselves in a different direction and might not turn out in the path that you had planned. Forgive me. I am inconsistent. Please don't forget to send your reviews. *Grin* I like reviews. 


	2. Tears

In the Heart of a Dragon  
  
Chapter 2: Tears  
  
By: Winter's End  
  
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are owned and copyrighted by J.K. Rowling. This story is only for the sake of pure entertainment.  
  
Summary: Hermione begins to find sanctuary in the darkness... of the dragon's heart. (Ick! How cheesy!)  
  
"I know that it may not be right for me to ask, but --- no! That's not right... ok... Let's try again. Um... I know that there may be a few complications should you choose to do so, but I have reason to believe that --- Damn!"  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Ron jumped from his chair. "H--- Hermione!"  
  
"Don't 'H--- Hermione' me!" she protested, posing defiantly beside the door. She folded her arms across her chest. "What have you been doing here, Ronald Weasley?" she demanded, sternly pursing her lips.  
  
"N--- nothing!" Ron answered, hurriedly. His mind suddenly began to form a tumult of questions that he feared to answer.  
  
*How long has she been here? How long has she been listening? How much has she heard? * He couldn't think. *Damn! This is so embarrassing! * He shifted around for answers, trying to find one to answer the question 'How long has she been here?'.  
  
He froze. Where was here?  
  
Suddenly, he remembered. He was standing in front of the mirror that was situated inside the boy's bathroom. Relaxing, he finally found the solution to his problem. At least it would take the subject away from it. He gave her a glare, a grin slightly tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what are you doing here, Hermione Granger?" he asked, almost teasing.  
  
Hermione blushed. How the heck was she going to explain being in the boys' bathroom! She cleared her throat in an attempt to draw attention away from the reddish glow in her cheeks, which she knew would be a total giveaway of her discomfort. "We've been waiting for you, Weasley," she answered, hoping that he wouldn't detect the slight hesitation in her voice. "You missed an entire meal! Don't you think we'd even be a little bit suspicious to what you might have been doing at that time."  
  
The grin escaped. "But that still does not explain you being here."  
  
She flinched, "It doesn't matter," and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant about the entire situation. "Are you going to come now? Or are you just going to keep us waiting in an attempt to feed your narcissistic ego with how much you think your freckles look good on you?" Hermione gave him what she hoped was a menacing glare. He only returned it, and so she shrugged again. "Fine with me," she told him. "Be like that. But I won't be speaking to you again, Weasley. Not ever." And with that, she turned on her heals with an audible 'humph' and marched out the open door  
  
"Wait! Hermione!" Ron shouted, but was left shouting it to a blank door. (It didn't seem to be amused.) "What is wrong with that girl?" he muttered to himself. And then, shaking his head, he walked back to his original place before the image of his reflection reflected upon the surface of the gleaming mirror, asking it, "So... would you mind if I ask you a question..."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Hermione strode hurriedly across the hall, hoping to reach her room before she finally broke into a fit of tears. She didn't understand what had happened between her and Ron. It had been going on so well between them for the past few years that she had never thought that anything like this could have happened. Ron didn't care about her anymore... or at least... not how she had wanted him to. She shook her head at the grief of the loss. After years of having such a steady and consistent relationship, he was back again to treating her no more than how he had used to, just as if nothing had happened, just as if she had been nothing more to him than a common friend... just as a friend... This has now become the zenith of her torture. Being away from him that summer had already been torture enough; but having been with him for these two months, only to see the fading memories of a long-passed dream embedded in the gleam in his eyes was yet a harder form of torture. She couldn't  
help but mourn for the loss, of a love that might have been --- and had been --- but never will be again...  
  
She rubbed her eyes, feeling the presence of her tears blurring her vision as she walked steadily on. She absent-mindedly turned a corner ---  
  
And bumped someone.  
  
She stepped back, and sniffed, embarrassed. "Sorry," she blurted in a voice husky with tears.  
  
"That's the seventh time these two months, Granger."  
  
Her head jerked up at the sound of the voice. "Malfoy!" she breathed. Just her luck!  
  
Draco arched a questioning brow. "Who were you expecting?" he asked in sarcasm.  
  
Hermione stepped back. He was the last person she had expected --- or wanted --- to see. She couldn't bear the thought of him finding her like this! She was a mess! She quickly wiped her face with the sleeves of her robe, brushing away the lingering streaks that her tears had left to mark her face. She snuffed, and looked up at him squarely. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice a note higher.  
  
"What kind of question is that, Granger?" he snorted. "Are you now going to tell me that attempting to rid the waste from my bladder is against school rules?" He glared. "Well then, it isn't, now, is it? So move out of my way."  
  
"You can't order me around, you gutless worm. I'm a Headgirl, remember?" she told him, glad that it came out firm, although a little narcissistic.  
  
"I couldn't care less what you are!" he snarled. "Now, move out of my way!"  
  
She snorted --- or tried- to. "What? Find yourself unmanly enough to hold it in? I thought better of you." She grunted. What was she doing?  
  
His eyes widened; then just as quickly, turned into ominous slits, a menacing glitter in his eyes that made her want to wish she hadn't said anything. He flashed her a smile. It wasn't very nice. "And I, Granger," he whispered, "thought better of you." And with reptilian grace, he leaned down, putting his face inches apart from hers. His lips parted slightly, sensually, into a sneer. "I never knew you could want to host me as much as this, Granger."  
  
She swallowed a lump. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" When she spoke, she realized that there was a horrible hitch in her voice. She wished against wish that he hadn't heard it. He might take it the wrong way and prove it to be a fatal mistake. He was doing this to her. He was making her feel all shifty and unsure. Of course, she knew what he was talking about, and knew that he did, too. She did this to herself. And why? All because she hadn't been humble enough to get out of his way! She had known that defying him hadn't been the right thing to do. But why had she done it? Why hadn't she stepped aside? And now he thought that...  
  
"You are an idiot, Malfoy!" she sputtered.  
  
He leaned closer. "I don't think so," he whispered.  
  
That wasn't good. Her heart gave a painful jolt. She felt it rip through her chest as if wanting her to give in to him; and she realized that he knew what had happened by her sudden and unexpected intake of breath. She gritted her teeth. He was too close. But still she remained her ground, ignoring the warmth of his breath intermingling with her own.  
  
"I'm warning you, Malfoy," she began.  
  
"Warning me... about what?" He leaned closer. "That if you can't have me at this moment, that if you can't feel me at this moment, you would report me to the headmaster. Tell me, Granger," he whispered, "don't you think I would be a much better..." --- he grinned --- "...guest... than your friend, Weasley?"  
  
Hermione drew in a sharp gasp of protest. She flared. "That was not what I meant, Malfoy! You know that was not what I meant! How dare you imply that of me! How dare you even think that of me! How dare you!"  
  
To her surprise, Draco tilted his head back, and laughed.  
  
He gaped at him, openly, her ears and her face red with embarrassment. She should have known... She should have known! How could she have left her guard down!  
  
Unable to hold it in any longer, she covered her ears from his laughter, and screamed, "STOP IT!"  
  
Eventually, Malfoy did. He looked down at her, noticing that she was about to break down in tears. He snorted. *Pathetic, * he thought. He never thought she could be conquered that easily. He glared down at her, and grinned. "Pitiful," he whispered. "Some people never change no matter how much they think they did." He looked her over. "You're no exception, you know. Just behind the glory of that badge of yours lies a sniveling, buck-teethed mud-blood, trying to be of good use to others who don't even need her."  
  
"Stop it..." It came out as a silent plea, almost a whimper. But he went on.  
  
"Take Weasley for example... you thought that he needed you. Isn't that the very reason that you agreed to be his 'loved one'? Strange... and I was beginning to think that there hadn't even been a change... Inside, I knew that he had considered you no more than a friend. But to everyone else, you're no more than a wretched mud-blood."  
  
"Please..."  
  
Hermione was already down on her knees, feeling her words wrench painfully at her heart, at her pride. She could still hear them being spoken even through the barrier of her hands on her ears. She hated him... because what he had said was true...  
  
Draco watched her, saw the tears flowing uncontrollably, saw them drenching the floor with their salty awareness. He felt something tug the walls of his heart, and for once, he didn't hesitate to obey it. "Get up," were his silent words of command. He didn't expect her to listen, but surprisingly, she did, slowly. And what was even more surprising was that she did it without the slightest hesitation.  
  
She was finally back on her feet, and she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, she sniffed.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
Draco's voice was firm. However, she did not know what it was that had compelled her to obey him, but she did, and even surprised herself that she did. She was sure that he was going to laugh at her for that. However... she was too weak with realization to protest. And it couldn't bring any harm to obey him just one more time.  
  
She looked up at him...  
  
And was taken aback.  
  
Was she seeing right? Was she actually seeing something in those eyes other than their unfathomable depth? Was she seeing... pity? Or was it merely a hallucination that was brought about by her sadness and her fear to see him with such utter loathing? But no... through the haze of her tears, she was seeing more clearly than she could without them. She could see it, an emotion that lay deeper, beyond what any mortal's eyes could see. She was seeing him for the first time. Not the vile snake that she had been used to, but an inner virtue of such dire emotion that she could not fathom. She saw... love?  
  
Hermione pushed it aside. No. That wasn't right. It was only pity that she saw. Whether it was pity in its highest degree, it was pity nonetheless. He pitied her. For what? He pitied her because he knew that she was going to live the entirety of her life with the knowledge that she was an outcast, of this world and of her parents' world, belonging to both, and yet of neither. She was a Muggle with magical abilities. What kind of Muggle was she? What kind of wizard was she?  
  
"I said, look at me."  
  
Draco's unmistakable voice pierced through her reverie. And she saw something that she shouldn't have. She saw him as the boy who she had seen on the train, the boy who looked strange, but familiar, having both beauty and ugliness colliding in a single body, in a single entity. He was a different person all the same.  
  
He watched her, long silver-blond hair falling over the sides of his face, strong and powerfully jaws tightly set, perfectly sculptured features, fair skin that she noticed was almost tanning, stretching over a lithe and hard-muscled body that anyone could die for.  
  
She clenched her fists. It was hard not to look at him; and harder still to even look at him and find it impossible not to want him. He was... beautiful. Handsome wouldn't even come close in describing him. And whether she liked it or not, she felt almost as if she was in the presence of so holy a divinity that to even look at him would have turned out to be sacrilegious!  
  
She narrowed her eyes. What was she thinking of! Surely she couldn't like him. Draco was Harry's enemy. Which made him Ron's enemy; and so, automatically, became her enemy as well, something that even he himself confirmed by the way that he had brought out the worst of her torment.  
  
Suddenly, his gaze hardened, and he sidled away with the most silent of footfalls.  
  
She hated him. He was her enemy.  
  
*You can't mean that... * a part of her mind began to sigh, *he's so beautiful... And when you look at him... and his eyes... Oh! How can you pass off such a person as him! *  
  
*Because he isn't a person, * the other part of her mind argued. *He isn't anything I want to be near to. He isn't anything I want! He isn't anything...*  
  
*Just look at him ---! *  
  
*Just look at me! I am nothing to him! And he is nothing to me... I love Ron...*  
  
*But Ron does not love you...*  
  
*And neither does he. *  
  
*How do you know... *  
  
*I know... *  
  
The source of her sighs finally became a silent awareness that would she knew wouldn't be able to bother her for a while; but in one way or another, she could still hear its soft and longing breath sighing itself away, into a corner of her mind. But all the while, all she could ever seem to hear was the sound of her scornful laughter, and the contrast... the gleam of love in his eyes. 


	3. Eyes

Chapter 3: Eyes  
  
By: Artemis  
  
Summary: All about eyes. Really pathetic. Just review, anyway. Enjoy.  
  
* * *  
  
The only sound he could hear was the soft thud of his feet upon the smooth carpeted floor of the Slytherin Common Room. He couldn't sleep. And every time he tried to do so, all he could see were… her eyes. Soft… gentle… hazel-colored… eyes that had seen him at that brief instant of his vulnerability. He saw his reflection mirrored within those innocent hazel orbs not as the dragon she once thought she knew, but as a divinity she wanted to know, though uncertain that she did. It was no longer the untamed look of amazement he had seen in her face the time he had collided with her in the confines of the train. What he saw was more like the bounty of sheer and utter admiration that she had kept from him and from everyone else in a long time. Draco had never thought --- never dreamed --- that one day she may be able to look at him in that way, to look at him with longing. And neither did he even know how much it would matter to him when she did.  
  
He shook his head. He still couldn't believe it of her. What did she see now that she had never seen times before? He knew what she thought of him. She saw him the way that wretched Potter did: as an enemy not even worth looking at. They finally realized that three years ago. They had begun to ignore him then. Though, Draco thought with amusement, they couldn't ignore him, could they, the day they saw him onboard the Hogwart's express.  
  
Yes. Draco remembered. He had made the greatest impression upon the entirety of the school at the beginning of the year. And until now, the whisper of his name still echoed within the corridors that shaped Hogwarts. Yes. He was famous now. Even more so than Harry Potter himself.  
  
Although… it was not so much his appearance that had nearly unsettled the impenetrable fortress of Snape's calm, nor was it the reptilian glint that sparkled in the depths of his depthless gray eyes. But he only realized it vaguely that the impact most acquired in his presence came with the regality of his countenance and the meticulously refined demeanor that had taken every girl and boy in school by surprise. Some of his female schoolmates (he noticed) would nearly faint --- yet again --- with but a mere sweep of his hands, a mere arch of his brows, a mere curl upon his lips and a mere glint of mischief within his eyes. With no more than those simple actions, he knew that he already had them wrapped around his little finger, his to command… save for one.  
  
She stood out amidst them all. After her first initial shock of seeing him on the train, she had already grown accustomed to his presence, and would not… even… look… at… him! Draco was, in a way, though he was loath to admit it, intrigued by the pride he had noticed in the very air that she breathed. Truly, she would give herself up to no man, least of all, him.  
  
*It was all that damned Weasley's fault! * he swore. It was true enough, he supposed. Had the imbecilic git been smart enough to have laid his hands off her, Draco would have had the chance of…  
  
No! Dammit! He couldn't think of these things! And least of all, he couldn't think any them of a wretched Muggle! A Muggle! Part of the entire race of pathetic, underdeveloped humans that he was destined to hate forevermore! But why was he feeling like this? Why was he feeling as if that hate was slowly disintegrating into nothing more than disgusting puddle of vile beneath his feet? Why was he even feeling! He was Slytherin! He shouldn't feel anything!  
  
He shouldn't feel anything…  
  
He should just forget it… forget everything.  
  
He walked up from the sofa of the Slytherin common room, and approached the cackling, red fireplace. Bending down, took the poker from the floor beside the glowing hearth, and began poking it around the burning wood that had been left aflame. Once again, the glow reminded him of Weasley, and he was angered even more. He couldn't understand why he even bothered to think about any of them. To think about… her  
  
Granger… that damned Muggle! That accursed bush-shaped hair! That incessant chattering! Those accursed smiles! Those accursed lips! And those hateful… soft… brown… EYES!  
  
With a furious growl, Draco hurled the rusted poker to the open window, where it landed… somewhere, with an audible clang of metal against metal. He couldn't have cared less even if it had pierced flesh, especially if it had pierced her flesh.  
  
Draco scowled, and turned away. He couldn't be thinking of these things. Surely, his father wouldn't approve. He wouldn't approve of his son's loss of self-control. He wouldn't approve of his son's loosing it because of a Muggle.  
  
Damn! Why did she always have to burn in his thoughts. Like the immortal phoenix that kept coming back over and over again. Thoughts of her would always rise up from the ashes of his anger… and his regret. And now that he regretted it, having had anything to do with her, he remembered her once again, and her eyes, such perfect innocence with which he had been deprived of at birth.  
  
Feeling the root of his anger slip away, basking in the memory of her, he covered his forehead with the palm of his hand, and shook with silent laughter at the absurdity of his situation.  
  
Why would he be wasting his time regretting it? Why would he waste his time trying to figure out what his father would do to him? Why would he be wasting his strength, hating them, loathing them, loathing her? When now that he finally knew that he loved her.  
  
Loved her…  
  
Of course he loved her!  
  
Why? He had yet to find out.  
  
Slowly, and in resolve, he walked back towards the confines of his bedroom, into the safety of his four-poster bed, into the rest of a tranquil and peaceful slumber, all the while, dreaming of her…  
  
… and of her eyes…  
  
Hermione woke up after hearing the clash of metals. Quickly wrapping herself with the night robe just above the table beside her bed, she strode stealthily towards the open window not wanting to wake up the other sleepers that shared the same room.  
  
She took a peak towards the grounds below, her eyes searching for the source of that nerve-prickling sound. With the help of the waxing moon, she saw a small metallic glint that was rested atop the center fountain. It was a thin, metallic rod, very much resembling a poker. She wondered if it was, although the reason why a poker would be sitting ever so casually atop a fountain eluded her.  
  
A cloud began to move, drawn by the coming of a chilling wind. The large cumulus formation unceremoniously obscured the moon from her sight, plunging all of Hogwarts into darkness, especially in a starless night. But somehow, she could still see the piercing gray of the metal that gleamed with a light brought about by the existence of a single lantern somewhere within the grounds. It gave her a sudden chill, an eerie coldness that seeped through her with more force than the flight of the wind.  
  
She wrapped her robe tighter around her, and she backed away from the sight. Slowly, and with much eagerness, she closed the window, and sat down.  
  
The thought was then finally embedded in her mind, and she began to regret it even as she returned to her bed, pulling the covers above her. And she knew that it would follow her, even in her sleep. The piercing metallic gleam that ever so haunted her during the day now haunted her during the night. And even as she slipped into a dim and dreamless slumber, she could think of nothing more than the gleam of his presence, than the presence of her own growing love. All these combined could no longer affect her than the memory of his eyes.  
  
And yet, one name outstood her own thoughts, and she whispered it as she began to sleep. The sound of silence, embraced it, and took it, and it whispered back, "Draco."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
A/N: Gasp! What a sucky ending! Eeeewwwww……….!!! *Sigh * (Dot. Dot. Dot.) Don't worry! I'll make it better next time! 


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